Exile's Price
by blueseacowboy
Summary: A WHN for the episode "Exile".


Exile's Price

Lee Crane, captain of the submarine _Seaview_, paced anxiously back and forth across the width of the Observation Nose of the mighty submarine, his heart racing. Had he chosen the wrong thing to do? What if following the admiral's orders to wait at the rendezvous for him cost the admiral his life? As soon as he had heard the yacht Nelson had met ex-Premier Brynov on had been sunk, his first inclination had been to race back to the last coordinates of the yacht and try to find the admiral. But he remembered Nelson's words-his orders- to take _Seaview_ out of territorial waters, head to the rendezvous and wait for him there. He had banked on Crane doing that and he'd felt it was the right thing to do at the time. But was it? Or was it a death sentence? They hadn't expected the yacht to be found by the People's Republic so easily but it had and now the admiral quite possibly was lying on the bottom of the sea dead, or worse, a captive of the PR.

"Lee, repairs are finished," Chip Morton said, coming up beside the captain, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Thanks Chip," he replied quietly, still questioning his decision as he stared out the huge windows fronting the large submarine.

"Anything I can do?" his exec asked, knowing the turmoil his friend was in over the admiral and his plight.

Crane shook his head. "No, Chip. Thanks. Doesn't seem to be much we can do, does there? Except wait."

"You all right?"

"It's been three days, Chip," he said quietly after a moment's hesitation. "He should have been here by now. Maybe you were right. Maybe we should have gone in after him. He might be safely on board by now."

"Or we could be lying on the bottom with a dead crew. You were right, Lee. _Seaview_ couldn't have taken another pounding by those ships. Following orders is what the admiral would count on, not us racing in there to find him. Like you said, if there's a way, he'll find it."

"_If_ there's a way. And _if_ he's alive."

"Don't give up on him. He's a survivor and he knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, with the whole People's Republic looking for him. For all we know, they already found him and executed him," Lee said in an agitated voice as he thought of his friend. "We may never…"

What he was about to say was interrupted by Kowalski who shouted, "Small craft, sir! Coordinates are… right at the rendezvous point!"

Crane hurried to the periscope and looked through, his heart pounding as he saw the small craft bob in the current.

"Lee?" he heard Chip call in question.

"Small raft. No signs of movement on board. Come to a course of 190. All ahead slow. Notify Doc," he said tersely to Chip.

"Aye sir."

Crane panned the periscope 360 degrees. "No sign of surface ships. Sonar, radar, any contacts?"

"All clear Skipper," both men manning the stations replied.

"Take her up, Mr. Morton. Ten degree up bubble. Come alongside the raft," Crane said as he continued to watch the small craft for any signs of life, praying he saw something to give him hope. It had been three days-three long days. If the admiral had survived the bombing, he'd faced storms, sharks, discovery by the PR's navy…so many things. How could he still be alive?

"On the surface," Chip said after a few minutes had passed. "Moving towards the raft now, sir."

"Open hatches and prepare to bring occupants of the raft aboard," he said as he began to climb the ladder to the bridge quickly.

Climbing out on the deck of the boat, Crane strained his eyes for any sign of the admiral as they slowly neared the small raft.

"Here, Lee," Chip said as he handed him a pair of binoculars. Both men gazed intently at the raft they were slowly approaching.

"I don't see anyone moving," Lee said. "I can make out two men, one in the bow and one by the tiller. God, let's hope one of them is the admiral and he's alive."

The _Seaview_ approached the raft and was soon within eyesight of the raft. Two men could plainly be seen now; the one in the bow appeared dead, his face a white mask of agony. The one in the stern by the tiller was turned away but the visible wavy auburn hair gave the men hope that it was Nelson.

The little raft was quickly tied up by the side of the sub and Crane quickly climbed down into it, his heart in his throat as he fervently prayed it was Nelson and that he was alive.

Kneeling by the man, he turned him over; laying him across his arm and saw with relief it was Nelson. Bringing a shaking hand to his neck, he prayed hard for a pulse. A long sigh left him as he felt a faint, erratic beat beneath his fingers and he sighed in relief until he saw the blood soaked trousers and the ragged hole in the admiral's leg.

"Skipper? Let me in there," the _Seaview's_ doctor, Will Jamieson said, pushing him to the side and examining Nelson quickly.

"We need to get him to Sick Bay. Now!" he said urgently.

"How bad is it, Doc?" Crane asked in a tightly controlled voice.

"It's not good," he said looking into the worried eyes of the _Seaview's_ captain. "I don't know how much of the heat coming off his body right now is from hyperthermia and how much from fever. I won't know until I can examine him but that leg wound looks bad and it looks as though nothing was done to treat it. I need to go. I'll let you know when you can come down."

Eager hands reached down and gathered Nelson up, carrying him quickly inside and to the Sick Bay, Jamieson following along quickly, his face a mask of concern.

Lee knelt in the little raft watching them go, his heart in his throat. Had they been too late? What if he had gone after Nelson when the yacht was first sunk? Would he be all right?

"Skipper?" Crane, his thoughts interrupted, turned to the crewman beside him.

"This guy's dead. What should we do with him?"

Lee looked at the body in the bow and knew he was looking at Brynov. As much as he wanted to throw his lifeless body overboard, he frowned and said, "Just…take him below."

"Aye sir," he said quietly as he and others grabbed the Premier and carried him below.

Chip Morton, who still stood on the _Seaview's_ deck, stared at Crane in concern when the man didn't move. "You all right, Lee?"

"Yeah Chip," he said, turning and looking up into Morton's troubled eyes "It's just…he looked so bad. I don't know. We should have gone after him. Maybe…"

"Look, we've been through this. It's done. We did what he wanted, what he ordered us to do. It's what he _counted_ on us doing. You know that. Come on," he said giving him a hand back on board. ""Let's get out of here and head for home."

Hours passed before the call came from Doc that Crane could come down. As he slowly walked the corridors to the Sick Bay, fear and worry filled him at what he was going to find.

"Doc?" he called quietly when he had entered the softly lit room, his eyes darting quickly to the gurney that held Admiral Nelson, Jamieson leaning over him, gently rubbing the still arm beneath his hand and whispering softly to the obviously unconscious man.

"Jamie? How is he?" he asked as he approached slowly.

"Alive," Jamieson said succinctly with a frown as he turned to the captain. "I have no idea _why_ he's alive, but he is. He's severely dehydrated and badly sunburned as you can see. But the leg wound is the bigger problem. It looks as though the wound happened a few days ago but very little was done to treat it. Infection has set in and his temperature is way too high."

"What can you do for him?"

"I've done all I can," he said, sighing heavily as he turned back to his patient. "We're giving him fluids as fast as we can and we've started trying to cool his body down with ice, chilled sheets and sponge baths but so far his temps have remained way too high. I've tried to repair some of the damage to the thigh. I removed the bullet, removed some dead tissue from the area, cleansed it as well as I can and bandaged the wound. We started him on broad spectrum antibiotics to counteract the infection. Hopefully, he'll begin to respond."

"Has he been conscious at all?"

"No. He didn't even flinch when I was examining him or treating the wound. He's deeply unconscious."

"What's your prognosis, Doctor?"

Jamie sighed heavily and stared down at Nelson's still form. "If we can bring the infection under control and get his temperature down soon, he's got a chance."

"Only a chance?" Lee said as fear filled him.

"He's fighting to stay alive right now. The dehydration and the hyperthermia alone could kill him. Add the infection and blood loss to it and it deepens the odds against him greatly. I'm sorry. I really wish I had better news."

"Doc…if we had gotten to him a day ago or even a few hours ago, would that have made a difference?"

"Probably. I can't really say for certain but it probably would have made a difference, yes."

Crane grimaced and stared down at his friend, so still and unnaturally red. "I should have listened to Chip. I'm sorry, sir," he whispered as he leaned close to Nelson. He placed a soft hand on his friend's forehead and flinched at the heat that emanated from the man. "Fight. Don't give in. We need you. _Seaview_ needs you," he finished softly.

Rising, he stepped back and glanced to Jamie who stood, leaning against the bulkhead nearby with an indefinable look in his eyes.

"I…I need to take care of some things," Lee said. "Let me know if there's any change…any change at all?"

"I will. It may be awhile."

Nodding briefly, he placed a hand on Nelson's shoulder as he leaned down. "I'll be back, Admiral. I expect you to be awake and yelling at Jamie when I get back. All right?" When there was not so much as a twitch, his jaw clenched and he left the room. Outside the door he leaned back against the bulkhead and ran a hand over his tired eyes. Regret and fear warred within him as he contemplated his choices. Had he in effect cost Admiral Nelson his life and ruined the mission to find out if Brynov was telling the truth? He shook his head as if to dispel the unwanted thoughts. What was done was done and there was nothing he could do to change it, no matter how much he wanted to.

Clenching his jaw firmly, he strode down the corridor and headed to his cabin where he needed to inform the government of Nelson's rescue and condition.

"Sparks, patch me through to Admiral Starke's office," he said into the intercom when he had reached the refuge of his cabin.

"Aye sir."

A few short minutes later, Starke's anxious voice filled his cabin. "Crane? What's going on? Where's Nelson? We need his report! Is the information correct or not?"

"I don't know, sir. I haven't been able to talk to Admiral Nelson. When he…"

"What do you mean you haven't talked to him? Why not? I was told you picked him up hours ago!" Starke yelled. "This is important damn it!"

"I know it's important, sir. We did pick Admiral Nelson up but he was unconscious. He still is and may be for some time to come. If he lives."

Silence met Crane's statement. "What do you mean _if_ he lives? What happened?"

"We're not sure, sir. The admiral was shot in the leg, possibly a few days ago Doc thinks. Infection has set in. That coupled with the dehydration and hyperthermia he's suffering from…it's touch and go at the moment," he finished softly, guilt filling him.

"I…I had no idea," Starke said softly, concern for his friend apparent. "I'll inform Washington. Let me know when there's news."

"Aye sir," Crane responded bleakly as Starke's troubled voice faded away and the connection was severed.

He sat for a long time at his desk, pondering the past few days and his choices until the futility of it washed over him. There was nothing to do but accept it and move on. Somehow, he had to deal with the guilt he felt and move past it. But if the admiral died…he was pretty sure there would be no way to move on from that.

Rising, he headed to the Control Room and tried to push his recriminating thoughts aside as he waited and prayed for the admiral to regain consciousness.

A few hours later, a call came from the Sick Bay. "Captain, the admiral is showing signs of regaining consciousness. I thought you should know."

"I'll be right there. Mr. Morton, you have the con," he said as he walked quickly from the room.

Entering the Sick Bay, he saw the doctor leaning over Nelson's restless form. "Admiral? It's all right. You're home now. Take it easy," he said as he looked up into Crane's worried eyes.

"He's been restless for the past hour. He hasn't regained consciousness yet but he may be close. I thought you might want to be here."

Nodding, Crane walked to Nelson's bedside and leaned close. "Admiral? It's Lee. You're on board _Seaview_. You're safe."

Nelson's head tossed and he mumbled as if in a dream.

"Easy, sir. It's all right."

Suddenly Nelson's eyes flew open. "The raft!" he said as he looked about him, then relaxed when he realized where he was. "You…you found us."

"No, Admiral. You found us. You were at the rendezvous when we picked you up," he said as he watched confusion flicker over Nelson's face.

"I was afraid that you'd find us too soon," he said, looking up into Crane's worried eyes.

"Too soon?"

"Before uh uh…Brynov passed out. If I hadn't gotten the gun away from him before we sighted the _Seaview_, he would... he would have killed me. Where is he?" he asked as he tried weakly to rise up to look around the room.

Lee placed a soft hand on his chest to keep him down. "He was dead when we picked you up."

Nelson lay back and nodded slightly. "I..wa I…I wish I could say I'm sorry…but I'm not."

Crane was silent for a moment as Nelson struggled to stay awake. "Sir, I hate to have to ask but Washington is quite anxious about what you found out."

"Captain, I think that can wait," the doctor said quietly.

"No, no it can't. It's all right. I…I need to tell him," Nelson said weakly. "Did you find a…a medal…a Saint Barbara medal on me?"

"Yes, yes we did," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled the chained medal from it.

"Open the…the clasp carefully," Nelson said, his voice weakening. "The missile sites on the microfilm are defensive positions…not…not offensive."

"Are you sure?"

Nelson snorted. "Quite sure. Brynov…wanted our President to believe his…his country was about…to launch a nuclear strike…against us."

"But why? Why would he want us to think that?"

Nelson's eyes threatened to close as he weakened even more but he had to finish what he needed to say. "Be…because he…wanted us to strike first. And when the war began he would return as…as a…a hero."

"How do you know it's true?"

"I...I traded water for the information and Brynov killed the man who told me. Since he knew I'd heard, he admitted it was true. He…was going to kill me but he needed me alive to sail him…sail him to…."

"That's enough, Skipper," the doctor said as Nelson's voice faded and his eyes finally slid closed. "He needs rest."

Crane rose, his eyes still on Nelson. "Is he going to be all right?"

"I…I don't know. His leg is badly infected."

Crane's eyes shot up at the worry in his voice. "Infection? How bad an infection?

The doctor hesitated and clenched his jaw. "The white blood cells in the wound are elevated which isn't good and indicate that we may be dealing with…with gangrene. I'm running tests right now to determine the extent of the infection. If it's a condition called wet gangrene, hopefully we can treat it less aggressively with the antibiotics we've already started. But if it's gas gangrene…I'll…have to take his leg. It's wait and see right now."

"Gangrene! Doc! You can't take his leg!" Crane said in horror. "You know what…"

"I'll do what I have to do to save his life, Captain! And if that means…amputation…then that's what I'll do," Jamieson said angrily, unable to look Crane in the eye.

Crane stared in dismay at the doctor then turned his gaze back to Nelson who tossed restlessly in delirium. He pondered what the loss of his leg would do to the man before him and he cringed. As strong as he knew the admiral to be, he couldn't imagine what the future would be like for the man he had come to see meant so much to him. His heart ached at the thought of what he would go through, especially the first moments when he realized what had been done and then later when he strove to get back as much of his freedom as he could.

"It can't happen. Please God, don't let it happen," Crane whispered as he stared down at Nelson, oblivious to the anguish of the others in the room. "Please."

The next few days passed in monotonous routine as the _Seaview_ carried its creator home. Schedules were adhered to, orders received and followed but the life-force of the boat rested in Sick Bay, waiting: his future unknown. The crew had been told of what Nelson was facing and the realization the man they respected and honored might lose his life or, if he lived, lose his leg shocked and angered his crew. An increase in minor illnesses and accidents by the crew began to be noticed by the Sick Bay staff. Knowing the men were worried about Nelson, they pretended the complaints were a legitimate reason to visit, smiling slightly as they saw their eyes flit quickly to Nelson who lay still and silent at times and restless and delirious at other times. Some took a moment to stop by his bedside and speak softly to the man they were privileged to know and work for, before heading back to their duties.

Crane and Morton spent much of their free time sitting by Nelson, talking to him, cajoling him to awaken but their pleas went unanswered as the days went by. The infection in Nelson's leg and body raged on and he continued to weaken. Jamieson struggled with the question of if he should take the leg, knowing what it would mean to the man he had come to think of as a good friend. He paced endlessly back and forth, staring, waiting, watching for any sign the unspoken decision to wait was the correct one and he wasn't, in effect, killing the man before him.

Jamieson had given up his relentless pacing for a brief time one night when he saw Crane enter the Sick Bay. Knowing he must be at the end of a shift, he glanced up to the clock on the wall, surprised at the lateness of the hour.

"Any change, Jamie?" Crane asked, knowing there would be none.

"No. He's been restless but there's no sign he's waking up, or that the fever is lessening. He's delirious when the fever climbs and deathly still when it drops a bit. The only good news I can give you is the tests show it isn't gas gangrene. That's the only reason I haven't already taken the leg."

A brief 'thank God' passed Crane's his lips before he settled himself by Nelson's side, leaning forward to stare into the fever ravaged face of his commanding officer and friend.

"Why don't you go get some rest, Jamie," Crane said softly as he sensed Jamieson standing behind him, knowing the man hadn't taken much time to sleep lately.

"I…I don't want to be away from him if he needs me," he said gruffly, his voice echoing the bleakness on his face.

"Right there's an empty bunk. He's going to need you to be alert and rested, Jamie."

Acknowledging the wisdom of what Crane said, he nodded slowly, grabbed Nelson's wrist to quickly take his pulse once more, then stumbled tiredly to the bunk and collapsed, sleep finding him immediately.

Crane sat by Nelson's side talking to him of the crew, plans for leave, memories of Annapolis anything that he could think of just so Nelson heard a voice to come back to.

He unwittingly drifted off to sleep as he sat by the bunk, awakened some time later by the restless moans of Nelson who called to him in his delirium.

"Lee…Lee where…_Seaview_…have to get back to…"

"Admiral? It's Lee! I'm here, Admiral. You're safe. You're on _Seaview,_" he said softly as he stroked Nelson's forehead.

He smiled slightly as he saw Nelson's eyes flicker, struggling to open and stared at Crane hovering over him.

"I'm…on _Seaview_?" he whispered as he looked about him.

"Yes. We found you. Remember? You're safe."

"Safe? The…the mission?"

"You told us about the mission. You told us the sites were defensive positions only for the rockets. It's all right. Washington knows it was a ruse. There's nothing left for you to do. You can rest easy, sir."

Nelson moved as if to turn and gasped as pain shot up his leg. "Ahh! My leg? Is it…? Is it still there?" he murmured as he reached down to find out for himself.

Lee grabbed his hand before he could touch the bandaged wrapped limb. "It's all right, sir. It's still there. It's infected. But…"

"But? No," he said in anguish as he saw the look on his captain's face and he began to shake his head. "No…Please. Lee…tell Jamie…tell him not to take it. Please Lee. Please…tell him..." he begged as sleep pulled him back and his eyes slowly drifted shut again.

Crane closed his eyes at the torment in Nelson's voice, knowing the man understood that when he awoke again, his leg might be gone. He laid a soft hand on Nelson's shoulder. "Rest, sir. Just rest."

"Captain?" a voice behind him interrupted his musings.

"He was awake, Jamie," he said as he saw the tall doctor peering over his shoulder anxiously at his patient. "He's worried about his leg. He begged me to tell you not to take it."

"I can't promise that."

"I know but…I think he may be a bit cooler," he said glancing up quickly into Jamieson's worried, anxious eyes.

"He does seem to be breathing a bit easier," Jamieson noticed. "Let me check him out…check the leg again," he said as he laid a soft hand on Nelson's brow. "He _does_ feel cooler. Might just be wishful thinking though. Why don't you go get some coffee or something? Give me a few minutes alone to check him out."

Crane rose reluctantly as Jamie slid into his seat and began doing his tests. He walked slowly to the coffee pot in Jamie's office and poured a big cup, gulping the black bitter brew down easily. The door opened and Crane saw Chip Morton ease his way quietly inside, taking in Jamieson's examination of Nelson quickly.

"Chip? Shouldn't you be asleep?" Lee said from the doorway to the office.

"Geez, Lee you scared the crap out of me," he said jumping slightly as he turned to see Lee behind him.

"Sorry," he said in a totally unrepentant tone.

"How is he?"

"Don't know. He woke up briefly. Begged me to tell Jamie not to take his leg," he said in sorrow.

"He knows how bad it is then," Chip said softly as he turned his gaze to Nelson.

"He must know. There weren't any first aid supplies on the raft. There wasn't _much_ on the raft. Either it wasn't supplied or the raft flipped and everything was lost," he said as he continued to closely watch Jamieson's examination of Nelson.

Crane suddenly pushed himself away from the wall he was holding up when he saw Jamieson lower his head into his hands.

"No," he whispered as he watched the Chief Medical Officer's posture, the slight shaking in his body. He walked slowly towards the doctor, hesitant because of the news he felt sure he was going to hear.

"Jamie?" he asked tentatively.

Jamieson looked up into Crane's worried eyes and smiled. "Fever's down almost a whole degree. The leg looks better, too. Pink, not red. I think…God I think he's going to be all right," he said, his voice breaking.

"He's going to be able to keep his leg?" Chip asked as he came up beside Crane and stared down at Nelson who seemed to be resting more comfortably now in contrast to the restlessness before.

"It's too soon to tell definitively but I'm optimistic. All the signs are good."

Crane sighed and relaxed slightly. "That was too close, Jamie. Too close."

"Yes, yes it was. He's going to need therapy on that leg and he's not going to be able to walk on it for awhile."

"But he _will_ be able to walk on it sometime, Jamie. That's what's important," Crane said as he looked down at Nelson. "That's all that matters."

Over the next few days, Nelson awoke for longer and longer periods of time and began to regain his strength as the infection responded, finally to the antibiotics. His relief at the news Jamieson gave him that he would keep his leg was almost a palpable thing and the _Seaview_ officers knew it was only a matter of time before Nelson began to make demands to be freed.

Nelson was in that twilight period, not quite awake and not quite asleep, one day when he sensed someone beside him. Opening his eyes, he smiled as he saw Lee seated in the chair by his bed he had frequented way too much over the past few days staring at him, his concerned look quickly replaced by a quick smile.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Better," Nelson said tersely. "Just need to get out of here. Any idea _when_ I can get out of here?"

Crane smiled to himself, knowing the officers, and some of the crew, were taking bets as to when he would first utter the words that he wanted out. "Jamie says you're going to be here until we reach port."

"And how long is that?" Nelson asked as his brow furrowed in thought. "I don't even know how long I've been here."

"You've been aboard for about a week. We should be in port in two more days."

Nelson sank back into the pillows. "I've been aboard that long?" he said in confusion.

"That long. You…you almost died, you know. It was a close thing."

"I know, Lee. I know," Nelson said in a conciliatory tone. "I just hate lying about."

"Well, get used to it. I don't think Doc wants you up on that leg any time soon."

Nelson heard the words but hesitated at Crane's tone and the way his eyes never met his. Something was bothering his captain and he needed to find out what.

"What is it, Lee? What's wrong?"

"What? I don't know what you mean. Everything's fine," he said smoothly, his eyes belying the words.

"Lee…what is it?"

Crane sighed, got up and began to pace in short circles by Nelson's bed, his fingers twisting his ring in an agitated motion.

"I…I should have come after you," he said quietly after his third circuit. "I'm sorry."

"What? What do you mean?"

"When we heard the yacht had been sunk, Chip wanted to go in after you. I told him no. We needed to follow orders. I can't help but feel it was the wrong thing to do."

"Why? It's what I ordered you to do. If you think about it, really think about it, you'll see it _was_ the right thing to do."

"How can you say that? It almost cost you your life!"

"Almost. But even if it _had_ cost me my life, it was _still_ the right thing. If you had taken _Seaview_ in after me, you would have been risking the lives of 125 men to save one man. The PR's navy had already pounded the boat. I'm guessing there was damage?"

"Yes, but…"

"No, Lee. No buts…you did the right thing. Let it go."

Crane sighed and shook his head. "It's easier to let it go now that I know you're going to be all right I guess," he said as he seated himself by Nelson's side again, gazing at him in speculation. "You know, you haven't been strong enough to talk about what happened. Do you feel up to talking about it?"

Nelson glanced away from Crane's probing gaze and was silent for a bit, not really wanting to talk, or even think about what he'd been through. "Not much to talk about," he said after a moment's silence. "I got on board with no problems. Convinced Brynov to let me look at the microfilm and examined it. I believed what he said about the missile sites being offensive sites and that the PR was planning a nuclear strike. Shortly after I talked to you, we heard the sound of dive bombers." Nelson snorted. "Brynov said there was no way they would find us in the fog and that we were safe."

"But they did find you."

"Yes, with inside help. Not all of Brynov's group was loyal to him. Someone knew the coordinates had been given and they launched a raft. Saved a few of our lives. At least until we picked up Brynov," he said sourly as he remembered the bloodbath.

"What do you mean? How many of you survived?"

Nelson's brow furrowed as he tried to remember. **"**Nine I think." There were eight of us at first. Mikhil, Brynov's brother, died shortly after we got to the raft. Then we found Brynov and took him aboard. Three more were in the water."

"And yet only you and Brynov lived."

"Yes," Nelson said quietly as he remembered. "Just the two of us. Concerns for the raft floundering and the food and water issue sent Brynov into a killing frenzy leaving only five of us. When Semenev traded water for the information that the sites were really defensive not offensive ones, Brynov shot him. Brynov told the doctor, uh…Konstantin to take my gun and throw it into the sea. I knew if I had a chance at all it was then. I tried to get up to go after the gun but the raft bobbled and I lost my balance I guess. Brynov shot me. It was then we found out Dr. Konstantin, Brynov's personal physician, was the one who had radioed the coordinates and launched the raft."

"Why? Why would a doctor, Brynov's hand picked doctor, do that?"

"He hated what Brynov had become. Felt he betrayed his country by what he was willing to do to come back in victory. He knew what our launching of nuclear missiles would do to his country and he refused to sit by and watch. He wanted to get the microfilm from him."

"What happened then?" Crane asked as he watched Nelson struggle to stay awake.

"After Brynov shot me, Konstantin took my gun and put it to Brynov's throat, told him what he thought of him and tried to get the microfilm. But then Brynov's friend Josip, who'd been asleep, woke up and grabbed the gun. They started to fight over it, Brynov grabbed it. Josip and Konstantin fought and went overboard."

"Were they dead?"

"I… I don't know," Nelson said as he closed his eyes briefly as if to blot out the memory. "They disappeared almost immediately. I tried to go back but the current was taking us too fast and the raft wouldn't respond. Plus, a storm was coming up. That coupled with the number of sharks that had been following us, I didn't think there was much chance they were alive. And Brynov didn't seem to care that they were gone. I guess he thought there was just that much more food and water for us. Josip was his friend and yet he just…didn't care. I don't understand how he could…"

Crane watched as Nelson's brow furrowed as he thought of what Brynov had allowed to happen, the sacrifice Josip was willing to make for his friend: a friend that hadn't even tried to help him.

"So you were all alone on that raft with Brynov?" he asked, bringing Nelson back to his story with a start.

"Yes…yes. The storm capsized us shortly after that. We managed to climb on top of the raft, away from the sharks. By morning I could see Brynov lying on the upside down raft. I tried to get to the gun but he woke up just as I got to him. We turned the raft right side up and continued on."

"Towards the rendezvous."

"No, not towards the rendezvous. I deliberately steered us off course so I could get the microfilm. I knew Brynov would eventually give in when we ran out of water and drink the sea water. So when he was asleep, I drank as much of our remaining water that I could and dumped the rest overboard. When he woke up, he found out we were off course. He took over, sitting proudly in the stern of that little raft with a smug smile on his face, like he was the king of that little piece of rubber."

"And then?"

Nelson was beginning to tire but he wanted to finish his story, he struggled to keep his eyes from closing. "Then…he tried to get a drink, found it was empty and got a bit mad."

"A bit?"

Nelson laughed. "I told him we would see which one of us survived. When I saw him drink from the sea, I knew I'd won. He passed out; I grabbed the microfilm and the gun and got us back on course for the rendezvous. That's pretty much all I remember. I tried to stay awake but I kept falling asleep or passing out, I don't know which. The sun was so hot and with that blasted black uniform sweater on, I had trouble staying alert. Next thing I know, I'm here and you're looking down at me."

"When you didn't show up, we searched for you in a spiral pattern until we found you at the coordinates. I have to tell you, I was never so happy to see a little rubber raft in my life!"

"I…I imagine so," he said with a slight smile. "The whole experience…It's not something I…I ever want to…to…" Nelson's eyes flickered then closed as the sleep he had warded off while he told his story came to claim him and he gave in willingly, a slight smile on his lips.

"Rest now, Admiral," Lee said as he squeezed Nelson's shoulder tightly. "It's all over now." Leaning back in the chair he'd spent many hours sitting in, Crane examined the face of his commanding officer and friend closely. The ravages of the fever and the ordeal on the boat still marked his face and body but they grew less every day, the unnatural redness on his face fading to a warm brown tone, unusual in a submariner. His gaze lowered to Nelson's legs, one lying flat and one heavily bandaged and elevated on pillows, but still there. He shook his head at the knowledge of how close the man had come to not only losing his leg, but his life as well. Whether it was a silent testament to Nelson's strong, stubborn constitution or Jamieson's excellent doctoring, or a combination of both, he didn't know. The only thing he knew for sure was that this time there was a happy ending: one Crane hadn't thought would be a possibility only a few days ago. He only hoped there weren't too many more missions such as this one. After all, _Seaview_ was a private research vessel. What were the odds?

With a smile, Crane rose and headed out to inform Chip he owed Lee dinner at his choice of restaurant after winning the bet on how long it would take until the admiral asked when he would be let out of Sick Bay. A bet he was glad was able to be made. And won.

The End


End file.
